


Returning home

by Onyxcat



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Raleigh Becket Mako Mori and Stacker Pentecost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxcat/pseuds/Onyxcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Striker Eureka<br/>Mark V Jaeger<br/>Ranger team assigned : Hercules Hansen / Charles Hansen<br/>Date of service : November 2, 2019<br/>Date of termination : January 12, 2025</p>
<p>Or the fateful day all the hopes, thoughts and potentials that had been Chuck Hansen’s short life were scattered like a handful of ashes in a cold wind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [menel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/gifts), [Mixk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mixk/gifts).



“It’s been a pleasure, Sir.”

Chuck engaged the controls from his side of the conn pod, activating the nuclear payload in perfect synchronization with Marshall Pentecost, and then nodded at the latest.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

_* Dad *_

 

In a flash of pure light and a blast of heat, it was over.

Striker Eureka was annihilated, leaving nothing but a radioactive void at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

 

* * *

 

“We can clear a path for the lady.”

Chuck’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him.

There was no coming back; they weren’t going to make it. Not this time.

He had always thought he would go down with his father, because that was the way it worked between copilots, wasn’t it? Then they would have been all together again, Angela, Herc and him. Only Max would have been left behind but well, Mako and Raleigh would have taken care of him…

It turned out life had a fucked sense of humor, and he was going to die here, abandoning his dad, his only family left, leaving him to mourn for another loss.

 

In these very last moments, time seemed to slow down, seconds stretching to an eternity, getting Chuck lost in a maelstrom of whirling thoughts and emotions.

He inhaled sharply, suddenly acutely aware of his immediate surroundings, the smell of metal and oil filling his nose. He felt his blood beating at his temples and bile rising from his stomach, as a trickle of sweat stung his eye.

The emergency lighting bathed the conn pod in a surreal red glow, sparks flickering from hanging cables, as if Striker was bleeding from the inside, the sensation strengthened by the cracking sounds of the dying control systems and the grinding of the hull, like the rattle of a dying giant creature.

He had always wondered how he would feel at the very last moment, whether his death would be agonizing or quick, slowly suffocating from drowning like the Kaidanovsky or abruptly crushed like the Wei triplets, feeling his own death but also his copilot’s.

Would he stand brave and tall in the face of his impending death or would his primal brain take over, turning his stomach into a tight knot, fear gnawing at his insides and his heart beating wildly like a terrified animal?

Would he be full of anger and resentment instead, with his life ending so soon — too soon — mad at the unfairness of his fate, at the idea of not being present to witness the end of a war he fought all his life?

Or would he be overwhelmed by despair, regrets and remorse at not having been able to reconcile with his old man and tell him how deeply he loved him?

He could still feel Herc’s lingering presence in his mind, as an after effect of drifting for so many years with his father, a steady and comforting ghost soothing his rising terror.

The memory of his many drifts with his father brought back buried memories of a past time, which almost felt like another life, before the war, before hell broke loose on earth with the coming of the Kaijus.

 

_The bright sun and the heat from Australia._

_The first Christmas he can remember, surrounded by his mum and dad. * Love, happiness, safety, home.*_

_The sirens blaring, panic everywhere and suddenly dad is there, strong arms lifting him up and carrying him to a helicopter._

_Growing up in shatterdomes around the world with Herc and his uncle Scott._

_Watching his dad cry during the night, when he thinks Chuck is sleeping._

_* Anger, resentment, grief. * Why didn’t you save her?_

_The Jaeger Academy, relentlessy working and catching up to become the youngest pilot ever._

_Getting Max as a gift from his dad, all wrinkles and drool and affection._

_Being selected to become his old man’s copilot, finally, finally able to return blow for blow with these fucking Kaijus. For her. For mum. God I miss you so much._

_His first kill and the endless battles following, each victory emblazoned on his suit._

_Until that final drop._

 

He desperately clung to the bond he shared with Herc, and prayed for a fragment of his own soul to remain forever embedded in his father’s mind to shine there for him, the last gift from a dead son.

With that last hope, warmth spread through his body, easing his shallowed breathing, and acceptance finally settled deep within him.

And as he stood still, his eyes closed, he suddenly felt at peace.

 

_* Dad *_

 

* * *

 

 

When consciousness came back to him, the first thing Chuck heard was birds chirping.

Then he felt a slight breeze upon his face.

He opened his eyes and winced, blinking several times to adjust to the brightness of daylight.

“What the fuck?”

 

He was lying on a bench, on the porch of a wooden house, still wearing his pilot suit. His mind was in a haze, as if he was dreaming wide awake.

He knew he was dead. He remembered Operation Pitfall, Stacker and him ending up sacrificing their ~~l~~ ives to give Gipsy one chance to reach the Breach. But he didn’t feel any pain, any numbness. Quite the opposite in fact. He felt very much alive, serene and, for lack of a better word… whole.

Chuck slowly sat down and took a close look at his surroundings.

The house stood in the middle of a vast meadow dotted with fruit trees, butterflies flitting through wildflowers under a bright blue sky. Everything was quiet and peaceful, but at the same buzzing with life. It felt like a sanctuary of some sort, a place deserving of respect but warm and welcoming at the same time.

He got up and went to the front door. He knocked carefully, pricking up his ears for the faintest sound of human activity inside.

“Hello?”

When no one answered, he slowly turned the handle. The door opened, and throwing all caution away, he stepped inside.

 

What he saw from where he stood in the hall seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where this feeling came from. He wandered silently around the house, the feeling of déjà vu getting stronger with each step. The house was small but cozy, and gave the feeling that a happy family lived here, its members just gone to their daytime activities.

He stepped in the living room and suddenly stopped, shock plain on his face. He could see several pictures displayed on the fireplace and crossed the room to take a closer look. He recognized his parents on their wedding day, both smiling and looking so happy and carefree, and on another picture he saw his mum, cradling a tiny baby in her arms, a radiant smile on her face.

“What the hell?”

His head started spinning and he felt a wave of dizziness hit him. He sat heavily in a couch nearby, feeling at a loss.

What kind of sick joke was that? What was he supposed to do?  He hadn’t expected anything after death, only blissful oblivion and total nothingness. Well, maybe a fucking angel, with fucking feathery wings, aureole and everything. But certainly not that. He was all by himself and had nowhere to go.

He definitely needed some time to digest the meaning of all of this. Maybe he should wait for someone to come back, and then vent all his frustration on the poor soul. But as he was pondering that question, he felt a strong urge in his gut, instinct pressing him to get moving, as if every answer he was looking for was just within reach.

He went through the kitchen, which was filled with the sweet smell of a cake baking, to the opened back door, walked outside to the patio and froze.

 

The woman had her back turned on him.

She was crouched in the garden amongst flowerbeds, picking daffodils, lilacs,sunflowers, and tulips, and gathering them in a multicolored bouquet in the crook of her arms.

She was wearing a plain white dress, her brown hair loose on her shoulders.

 

Chuck was overwhelmed by the sight, all the barriers he had erected since his childhood suddenly collapsing, laying him bare, his heart constricting in his chest and his eyes filling with unshed tears. He could recognize this figure anywhere. He had missed her every single day of his life, had cried so many times after her and felt so much anger at her death, her loss a deep void in his heart that had never been filled again.

He took a careful step forward, a soft whisper escaping his lips.

“Mum?”

 

Angela turned her head toward her son and smiled.

“Charles.”

She rose slowly, her eyes bright with love and pride, and opened her arms, all her flowers falling to the ground in a soft and fragrant cascade.

“Charlie, my boy, my love.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody,  
> Just to let you know this is my first fanfiction ever.  
> I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, though it is unfortunately too sad, even for my own liking.  
> I'd like to thank Menel and Mixk, whose own fictions and kindness have inspired me to jump in (special extra thanks to Mixk, who read this work and helped me fix it - that was really really nice of you).  
> Of course I do not own Pacific Rim, that awesome baby is Guillermo Del Toro's.  
> I wish you all a great year 2014!


End file.
